


Movie Star Bullshit

by Porkchop_Sandwiches



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Drug Use, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 12:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9324539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Porkchop_Sandwiches/pseuds/Porkchop_Sandwiches
Summary: Maybe Jesse wasn’t a man yet, but he was still handsome; movie star handsome. And just like the first time she made her rounds in that pair of dark-pink, knee-high boots, he was too young and pretty to be here.How Wendy met Jesse, and their history at the Palace.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Salon_Kitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salon_Kitty/gifts).



He was just a little thing back then. Like real small: probably shorter than her even without her platforms with arms so thin that no kind of ink could cover up how much they made him look like a damn baby bird. The big hoodie he was wearing sort of gave him wings too. And he kept scratching at his forearm through his sleeve like his tattoo was new. She was betting it was.  

Jesse was young, like a kid really. Wendy wasn’t no kid-fucker, but it was a slow night for her and the girls, and the antenna crap on her T.V. wasn’t working, and just maybe she was a little sweet on him at first sight or something.

She wanted to say that was a bunch of bullshit. Back when she was a kid, she used to wait for her granddad to fall asleep before she’d sneak out of bed Wednesday evenings and run down to the old black and white theater where she’d pay for her ticket with the money that bastard would give her to stay quiet. On the weeks she was extra good she’d have enough to buy popcorn and a root beer. And she always sat in the second row with her feet up on the seat in front of her. She didn’t go to the theater where the other kids went ‘cause she wasn’t interested in sharks or star-people or guys with whips looking for treasure. She just wanted the classic stuff: ladies in big hats who made their cigarettes look fancier than hers and never had runs in their hose and got kissed from guys who said they loved them and really meant it. Those kinds of ladies were always falling in love at first sight.

Maybe Jesse wasn’t a man yet, but he was still handsome; movie star handsome. And just like the first time she made her rounds in that pair of dark-pink, knee-high boots, he was too young and pretty to be here.

“Listen up, bitches!” He had liquor on his breath. It looked like he had some type of glitter crap on his clothes and a little on his face. “It’s Jesse Pinkman in the hiz-ouse and I’m a legal, capital-A, adult. Read it and fucking weep, son!”

He yelled that over the second floor balcony of the Palace, waving around his ID where ain’t nobody in hell ever showed their real identification. It was kind of cute. Wendy was sharing a pack of smokes with a couple of the other girls waiting on johns and one of them even laughed. And really Jesse wasn’t doing much waiving ‘cause he had a kid holding him up on each side: a bald, fat, little Mexican and a bony one with a beanie.

The tubby kid clapped Jesse on the chest, disrupting all kinds of glitter. “Yo, it’s my man’s sweet eighteen. Think you could hook him up, mamacita?”

It was maybe a quarter ‘til one on his eighteenth birthday. The shimmery shit made sense. They’d probably stopped by a strip joint. She was betting Jesse was already sort of hard. Good; less work for her.

Wendy sucked back on her cigarette. “You got the paper?”

That had Jesse grinning. It was the first time she’d seen him smile. His eyes were real blue, teeth whiter than hers had ever been, his lips looked soft. And to hell if her knees didn’t go kind of jelly under her.  

He pulled out a small wad of bills from his pocket, and she wondered how many birthday cards it took him to have that much. But then he went and almost dropped all his cash and the beanie kid took over. He picked Sherry for the fat one probably ‘cause they were both Mexicans, and he wanted Big Betty maybe ‘cause he had a thing for fat ones. She hoped so ‘cause Big Betty was sure packing a fat one under her pleather skirt.

But once the other two got theirs, Jesse was left with just Wendy.

His friends had to fucking push him forward, give him a good shove like Jesse was some sad sucker who lost a kind of truth or dare game. The three of them were arguing, Jesse begging for Sherry probably ‘cause she had an ass like two beach balls and stripper-legs that went on to Mexico. Wendy had finished her cigarette before he was even willing to follow her in the room.

At the door, he raised his arms and looked at his boys. “Whatever, bitches. Alls you know I got the best one. Try not to fucking blow your load in your tighty-whities.”

Jesse gave them the middle finger as he swung the door shut, and she went to the nightstand for rubbers ‘cause he looked like the type who might ask for one. It took her a minute or two to remember she gave the last of them to Rhonda ‘cause her cooter warts were getting bad again. She smoothed the creases out of her denim skirt and turned to find him sitting all quiet at the end of the bed.

Inside her room full of half-torn clothes and half-working furniture and shit, it was like he was even tinier. He wasn’t yelling or grinning or nothing, just waiting on her patiently and almost antsy. His fingers were locked together with his hands in his lap.

Jesse looked like a little kid at the doctor’s and it sort of turned her stomach.

Wendy lit up a cigarette. “What do you want?”   

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe a,” his voice was shakier than she’d ever hear it, “like a…handjob.”

“This ain’t a junior high dance. Handjobs don’t pay the bills.”

Wendy set her hand on his knee and they snapped together like a couple of damn magnets. Guys usually weren’t this fidgety. It was making her itchy like he was gonna back out. The night was already so damn slow and she was running low on pot and her nausea wasn’t getting any better.     

Jesse seemed to shake a little and cleared his throat as he let his legs open up.

“How’s about you…you...s-suck,” he said, dropping his eyes. “Like a…blowjob would be…cool or whatever.”

She got down to her knees and put her cigarette out against the carpet. “Now we’re talking, sugar.”

He chuckled, nervous, still sitting there with his back ramrod straight. “Yo, what’s your name?”

It was a weird question to get when she was trailing her hands up his thighs, which she gripped onto before helping him splay them open. She ran her palms up and down the inseams of his jeans. He sort of tensed up.

“Wendy,” she said. She didn’t usually have to work them up this much. And shit did she need this money bad. “Hey, you some kind of virgin?”

“Hell no,” he said, scoffing before stalling out again. “Yo, could you…uh…maybe like take that off?”

Jesse nodded to her metallic halter top and she shrugged before getting the thing untied from around her neck. She fucking swore his eyes went just a little wider, and damn was he young. She wasn’t sure if she should offer him a handful or slip one of them in his mouth and hold the back of his head while he suckled. It would be years before she’d learn that on enough crystal, he was likely to want both.

Reaching out for her, he kind of glanced up and paused like he wasn’t paying for this shit. She nodded anyway and he cupped her with a gentle hand, thumbing her nipple in a real sweet way. He did the same thing with the other one and licked his lips. A couple of seconds later, he was grinding his crotch into her side.

Wendy pulled back enough to touch him where he was stiff and he shut his eyes.

His lashes were real long.

She rubbed him nice and slow, pressing down with the base of her palm until she could feel him shake. Snapping open his jeans, she got him unzipped and tugged down his boxers, and _shit_ his cock was cute too.

Jesse smirked. “Yo, you like what you…what you…?”

He choked as she licked a slow, wet line up his prick like a slug. His eyes shut again, lashes fluttering. She got the head past her lips, sucked once, maybe twice.

“ _Shit_ ,” Jesse said, fingers clutching the sheets instead of her. “Shit, sorry.”

Wendy swallowed around him as he came and stroked his calf ‘cause she wanted him to know it was okay.

She was wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when she got a queasy drop in her gut, and she hightailed it to the can and just barely made it before she started getting sick. It didn’t last that long, a few heaves and she rested her cheek against her arm. She could hear him behind her.

“Yo, was that from me? I uh…usually worn chicks when I’m gonna…you know”—

She waved him off.

“Are you…sick or something?”

Wendy shook her head. “Just pregnant.” He didn’t say nothing after that. But he didn’t leave neither and the silence was making her itchy again. Shit, considering when she started up, she probably could have been his mom too. “Morning sickness happens all the time, you know? I can’t remember the last time I kept down a meal.”

“Yo, that…that’s not cool,” Jesse said. “Can I like, get you something? Like a soda or crackers?”

She pulled a one out of her back pocket and turned to hand it to him. He looked just as concerned as shit, even drunk as he was, and it kind of made her feel better.

“A root beer?”

He took the dollar. “Yeah, totally. I’ll be right back.”

The second he left, she got another wave of that shit and puked until she was just dry heaving. She wasn’t sure how long he was gone but it felt like a long time, like he was running off without paying her. It was her own damn fault for letting him go.

Adjusting herself so she was sitting back on her ass, she tied her top up and set her hands on the cool, gritty linoleum. She was resting her eyes when she heard the door open, didn’t bother taking a look until she thought she heard joints pop like someone was crouching down next to her.

Jesse was on his knees in her dirty as fuck bathroom with a root beer and a plastic bag from the convenient store down the block. He took out a small bunch of bananas and a pack of those apple sauce cups the kids with money used to pack in their lunchboxes.

“This stuff’s supposed to like stay down even when you’re queasy and shit. It’s even got like a nickname or whatever. BRAT: bananas, rice, apple sauce, and toast. They only had the bananas and apple sauce. But like it should help. It’s easy to like digest and has potassium and shit.”

Wendy popped the lid on her root beer. “You learning to be some kind of nurse or something?”

“Nah,” he chuckled and rubbed at his nose. “My uh…my aunt’s just sick or whatever and I like take care of her sometimes.”

“She’s lucky.”

Jesse blushed with his head ducked and she fished out a wrinkled joint from the waistband of her skirt ‘cause she wanted that butterflies-in-her-stomach feeling to last. She forgot she had a baggie of crystal stuck in there too, and it fell out before she could grab it.

He picked it up instead, stared at the stuff like he was trying to figure it out.

“Is this…like meth?”

“Sure is.” She plucked it out of his hand. “And I ain’t sharing.”

“Whatever,” he said, shrugging. “That shit’s like super fucking additive anyway, right?”

“Not all that much more than pot,” she said, not sure why she was lying. Maybe she didn’t want to look like some fucking knocked-up crack-whore in front of him. “The high lasts a lot longer, though. Makes you feel better than just about anything.”

“Yo, seriously?”

There was a light behind those pretty eyes and she hated herself for it.

Then somebody was banging the shit out of the door like they wanted to bust the fucking thing down.

“Jesse! Yo, man we gotta bounce, like right fucking now, man!”

Wendy was ready to put money on that being the one in the beanie ‘cause his voice sounded like a kid who’d just gotten head from somebody else with a cock for the first time and he wasn’t too happy about it.

“Yo, you gonna…gonna be alright?” Jesse said.

“Yeah, Jesse. I’ll be fine.”

He fisted out that whole stack of cash from before and placed it in her hand. He even gave her a little smile and wave when he got to the door, his friend still yelling for him.

“Bye, Wendy.”

God, she played that over and over again in her head for weeks.

\---

Six years later to the day, his twenty-forth birthday, and he was stretched flat-out and naked underneath her on the bed. She could tell he was riding the crystal pretty damn hard ‘cause he was letting her ride him facing forward. Her top was off with her skirt hiked up, silver heels looking kind of mismatched against this shitty paisley comforter. His eyes were on her tits: Paul-Newman-blue things all cloudy and far-off-looking like he was staring at the stars. She was really the one with the view.

“Oh baby, _so_ good,” he moaned.

His voice was raspier. She couldn’t tell if it was more from the smokes or being grown. Either way, she liked it.

It gave her that mushy feeling the other girls made fun of her for. They called him Movie Star, saying crap like, “You better get your roots fixed before Movie Star sees you,” and, “Girl! You wearing your good lipstick? Movie Star coming today?” She always told them to fuck off. It was none of their damn business anyway. Hell, Jesse was a regular and they all fucking knew his face. But she was the only one of them who’d seen that new black dragon on his chest. Tracing her nails around the outline, she hoped in a bullshit stupid way that it meant something.

Jesse hummed like he was eating a real juicy burger, fucked up into her a little harder. She felt good like this, controlling how deep he was, him letting her drive ‘cause he was too fucked up to care. They were both sweaty.

It was maybe three or four o’ clock in the afternoon and she had the shades drawn and he was all excited. He’d been going on about his new cook partner, Emilio, and how they were making fat stacks. He’d been her weed dealer for years before he went on up in the world and started slinging crystal. At that point it was more like trading: a teenth for a fuck. It worked for her. No way in hell she’d say it, but she liked watching him come when she got the chance. He was so damn pretty. Too pretty.

And it seemed like she was gonna get the show real soon too. His hips were getting sloppy.

“Come on, Jesse. Come on, sugar.”

He chuckled ‘cause she didn’t really call him that anymore. He looked right in her eyes for just a second before he reached up.

“ _Fuck, Jesse,_ ” she moaned.

He had a damn lead thumb down on her clit, rubbing her so good, touching her where nobody but him ever did in way too fucking long. Even when they were doing their usual thing like reverse cowgirl or doggy-style, no matter how much glass he smoked, he usually stroked her clit. Something so simple shouldn’t have made him a damn saint. But considering the dirt-bags she fucked, it sure as hell did.

And his lips looked extra soft, smiling up at her as she tightened around him. Her orgasm made her tingle all over, hit her hard, and he was following behind her not too much later. His forehead did that cute wrinkling thing when his eyebrows met up together. He was humming again.

Wendy rocked into him until he was all done, hand slack on her thigh.

She thought about bending down quick, just a peck, a birthday kiss.

“Can I have another bump?” she said. “Your stuff’s good, Jesse.”

He smiled and reached for her pipe.

\---

She’d just taken a shower, hair still drying, simmering on her last hit of Blue with the TV off ‘cause nobody was talking about nothing except that kid on the dirt bike going missing. She was sucking back on her pipe and thinking about Patrick at her sister’s place in Virginia when somebody started banging on her door. They sounded like the goddamn cops. It figured ‘cause it was her birthday and she wasn’t working tonight. She was too deep in that jittery, paranoid feeling to not answer the door. Or even take more time than just throw her leopard print jacket over her stash on the table and sling an arm across her tits, nothing on her now but her rattiest pair of grey leggings, so worn-out and sheer they looked like hose.

The second she got the door open, some asshole was lunging into the room like just about any other night of the week. Except this scummy, skinhead-pervert in a leather jacket kissed her hard on the mouth, acting like they were on some sort of damn date. He kicked the door shut behind them and yanked her closer with his hands on her ass.

She was tired and wired all at once. It took about everything she’d got in her, but she managed to push the jackass off. Too bad her pepper spray was still in her nightstand.

“Back off, fuckwad. I don’t do that shit. And it’s my night off.”

The guy crumpled into himself like a soggy French fry. He stumbled a few steps back.

“Wendy,” he said, all watery like he’d been crying.

It was Jesse.

Fuck, she hadn’t recognized him with all his hair gone. The last time she saw him, she was supposed to deliver those burgers with that poisoned rice crap. His blue eyes were red and swollen like she’d actually sprayed that shit in his face. He had a little blow under his nose. It matched the little white box he’d dropped on the floor.  

And she actually touched her lips like some sort of starry-eyed, stupid, little girl. 

Then she sprang on him. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders with a leg hooked on up his tiny hip, she kissed him, slipped her tongue in when he sort of wheezed out like she’d  got him freaked or something. And she was guessing this was gonna be over before it really started until Jesse slid his tongue against hers. For fuck’s sake did that set her off. Grinding into him, she could feel herself getting wet.

His lips were kind of chapped but just as soft as she’d imagined. He was letting her kiss him like this was all they were gonna do, like they were in the last scene of one those bullshit romance movies, like maybe a little later he was planning on carrying her like a fucking bride to bed.

He pushed her on top of the mattress instead. Almost tearing off his jacket, she started bracing herself ‘cause he had that rage-crap in his eyes she’d seen with other guys that tended to mean she’d be bleeding a little by the end of this. And he tugged her leggings down hard enough to make a fresh rip near one of the seams. She spread her legs anyway when he left them clinging around her calves and waited for him to take his cock out.     

Jesse shot his face between her thighs, cupped the backs of them, and licked heavy at her snatch.

Wendy opened her mouth but not a fucking sound came out. She couldn’t say anything. It felt so good she thought she was paralyzed until she parted her legs more. And he hummed like he appreciated it, slid his tongue in where she was wet as hell.  

Gently, she bucked up into the open warmth of his mouth and cupped the back of his head. His eyes cracked open, not mad but not too playful either. He looked like he was coming off a real bad trip, one he’d been on for days. He looked strung-out and fried, down so low he was rolling around in the mud. Wendy knew she was part of that slop. She might as well take advantage of it.

Jesse’s eyes slipped back shut as he went up to suck on her clit. He slipped two fingers inside of her and crooked them, rubbed her like he knew what he was doing.

“ _Shit_ ,” she moaned.

The only time she ever had an orgasm that fast those days was with herself. She couldn’t remember the last time somebody ate her out. Maybe that was why it only took another suckle or two, clit swollen and throbbing for him, before she was coming again.

Her hands were shivering all over his head. She missed his hair. He was wearing it like that asshole Heisenberg she’d heard everybody talking about. The new cook. People had been calling him the devil.

Jesse kept on digging and licking, and it was starting to ache, up until her third orgasm. Then she really was raw. Every damn muscle down her legs was quivering. He wasn’t stopping.

Wendy slowly pushed him back by his forehead. “Easy, sugar.”

And he finally unlatched, panting on her inner thigh, resting his cheek on her kneecap. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and lumbered on up enough to sit against the headboard. Wedging a hand in his pocket, he fished out a baggie of coke. Wendy never had that much of a taste for blow. It dried her throat out.

She pulled up her leggings and scratched at a scab on her arm while she watched him do a line off his wrist before she was too damn curious not to get that box still on the floor.

The thing was too light to be any kind of bomb or some shit. It had bits of ice on the corners and she really fucking hoped it wasn’t somebody’s hand or foot cut off and kept chilled or something for Heisenberg.

Sitting down next to him, she popped the lid. Inside was a round cake with thick frosting and little yellow and brown sunflowers painted on. Her grade school principal used to give her sunflower stickers. He used to touch her too. She smeared the icing until the petals blurred together and she stuck her fingers in her mouth. They tasted like root beer.

Wendy crammed her fingers deeper in to the soft layers underneath and shoveled in a mouthful, and the cake tasted like a damn root beer float. She crammed in another big hunk and savored it on her tongue even though there was a chill that hurt her teeth, made her fingers cold. It was an ice cream cake. 

Jesse sort of raised an eyebrow at her before he did another line and let his head drop.

She stretched the box of cake out to him but he shook his head.

“I’m fine,” he said, sounding about as far off as he looked. She reached for his fly and he patted her hand back. “I’m fine.”

Wendy rubbed his arm, right under the sleeve of his t-shirt, and it was like everything in him broke all at once. He lunged for her again, this time with his face pressed into her neck, crying loud like a baby getting woken up from a nap. She stroked the short, soft, bristly ends of his hair like she’d done for Patrick before he got taken away for his own good. Holding on as tight as he’d let her, she tried to ignore the feeling like this was gonna be the last time she’d see him. She’d have those kind of hunches every once and while. They were always right. This was one of the shittier ones.

By the time he was done crying, she’d tried telling herself to numb it all out. And anyway she was hungry, so she dug back in the thing.

The cake had gotten easier to scoop, and she licked the pads of her fingers before just gouging out the damn center. She lifted it and crammed it right in Jesse’s mouth. He almost choked, but managed swallowing as he got his own handful and popped it between her lips, a corner of his own lips turning up just barely. She spread frosting down his cheek and he laughed.

“Nice, yo,” he said. He opened his mouth when she stretched her hand out for him this time. “It tastes fucking good, right?”

Wendy nodded, too busy eating out of his hand like always. She was pretty sure when most people fed each other cake it meant they’d just got hitched. But she managed to get Jesse to smile on her birthday, lighting his face up like a projector in a dark room. And even if it was bullshit, it was about all she could hope for.


End file.
